


come along because i love your face

by yuechu



Category: DOUBLE DECKER! ダグ&キリル | Double Decker! Doug & Kirill (Anime)
Genre: Glasses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 10:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17979446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuechu/pseuds/yuechu
Summary: “Are you undercover?” Kirill asked, once he found his voice.“No,” Doug said. “I just had an eye exam. I’m a little nearsighted.”He admitted this casually, like it was nothing extraordinary. Like it wasn’t an earth-shattering, life-ruining revelation.or: Doug gets glasses, and Kirill can't cope.





	come along because i love your face

**Author's Note:**

> title from [new perspective](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3sA5plF6kE) by patd

Kirill was late to work that day. His train had been delayed due to trackwork, and on his way from the station to the Seven-O building, he’d had to stop and help a little kid rescue a ludicrously fat cat—even fatter than Pochi—from a dumpster.

So, by the time he walked into the bullpen, Doug was already wearing them.

Glasses. Doug was wearing glasses.

Someone whimpered.

_That was me_ , Kirill realized, dazed.

“Bakariage,” Deana called out. She was leaning against the edge of Kay’s desk, flapping one hand at Doug with a maniacal grin on her face. “We need your opinion on this shit.”

Max, Yuri, and Kay were all sitting at their own desks, but none of them were working. Max and Yuri were both looking over at Doug and Deana. Yuri seemed a little curious about whatever was going on. Her expression was impassive, but there was an inquisitive tilt to her head. Max was more openly amused by the scene unfolding around Doug’s desk.

Kay, meanwhile, was frowning up at Deana with a familiar, disapproving furrow between her brows.

“You’re being very rude, Deana,” she chided. “I think Doug looks fine.”

“We have two votes for nerd,” Deana announced, ignoring Kay like she hadn’t spoken at all. She pointed at Max, then at the closed door to Travis’s office. Then, pointing at herself and Yuri, she continued, “Two votes for old man.”

“I didn’t say that,” Yuri corrected, gently. “I only agreed that they make him look a little older.”

“Same difference,” Deana said. She turned back to Kirill. “Kay’s too boring to vote, so you’re the tiebreaker. What do you think? Are they nerd glasses or old man glasses?”

They were browline glasses. The thick, dark top bar lay over Doug’s thick, dark eyebrows, and the thinner rims dusted his cheekbones. Through the lenses, his intensely green eyes seemed even greener. He leaned back in his chair, patient and tolerant of the spectacle Deana was making out of his new look.

And what a _look_.

“Well?” Deana asked. “Does he look like a nerd or a grandpa?”

He looked like a dream, and Kirill almost said so out loud. He swallowed around the impulse and tried to look anywhere else, at anyone else, but Doug had turned to look at him. His eyes glittered with amusement, and his lips were quirked, like he was just as keen to hear Kirill’s answer.

Kirill could only stare.

Doug was hot. This was an objective fact. Kirill had been aware of it since they met, even before his professional admiration grew into a big gross crush. But Doug, wearing glasses that somehow managed to accentuate every last one of his good features at the same time, was on another level entirely. Looking at him was like looking at the suns. Kirill’s pulse quickened until he felt like his heart might explode in his chest.

“Are you undercover?” he asked, once he found his voice.

“No,” Doug said. “I just had an eye exam. I’m a little nearsighted.”

He admitted this casually, like it was nothing extraordinary. Like it wasn’t an earth-shattering, life-ruining revelation.

Kirill may have whimpered again. “So, this is—it’s a permanent feature. This. The glasses. The glasses on your face.”

Doug’s eyebrows arched above the frame of his glasses. His stupid, sexy glasses. “Only when I’m reading.”

“Cool. That’s cool.” Kirill wasn’t entirely sure if he was breathing. It didn’t feel like he was. His chest had gone tight and hot, like someone had set off a bomb in his lungs. “I need to go to the bathroom, and I won’t be back for a while.”

Deana gagged. “What the hell? That’s too much information, shithead.”

“Bit weird, Kirill,” Max remarked.

Kirill was already backing towards the doors behind him. As soon as he was through them, he turned on his heel and booked it down the hall.

 

Over the course of the next week, Kirill spent an alarming amount of time in the bathroom. Every time Doug flipped open a case file and reached for his glasses, Kirill bolted like a convicted felon fleeing a crime scene. He always beelined to the bathroom, where he would proceed to hide in the stall farthest from the door, like distance alone would be enough to white out the memory of Doug, wearing glasses, from his mind.

After clocking out on Friday, Doug hung back and offered to drive Kirill home. Before, Kirill would have accepted in a heartbeat. It would have made his whole month, just to hear Doug offer. But Doug had taken to wearing his glasses while driving, which meant riding shotgun was now a waking nightmare.

“No, you go ahead.” Kirill waved at the mess of files open on his desk. “I wanna look these over one more time. We’re so close to cracking the Saulino case. I just know it.”

Doug studied him for a moment. He’d put away his glasses, which helped. A little. He was still an aggressively handsome man. Kirill squirmed, cheeks warming under his scrutinous gaze.

“Alright,” Doug said, finally.

It was the worst week of Kirill’s life. The greatest threat to his continued well-being was no longer Nikai. It was Doug, and those glasses. It was the way Doug looked, wearing those glasses.

Kirill was going to lose his mind.

Finally, on Sunday, things came to a head. Not gradually, but all at once.

Doug and Kirill were the only ones at the office. They had cracked the Saulino case pretty quickly after all, and the new Cooper—she had a name, but it was very long and Kirill was certain that he wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten it as soon as she finished introducing herself—wanted their written report on her desk by Monday morning. She was being a total hardass about it, but in all fairness, Doug and Kirill had racked up a few hundred thousand dollars of property damage in their pursuit of Saulino’s gang.

Kirill did most of the writing while Doug dictated, and they were almost done by noon. It was dull, easy work. When Doug asked to look over the report, Kirill passed it to him without thinking. He was feeling pretty good. Content, accomplished.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with his fingers interlaced. Already, he was thinking about how he could spend the rest of his afternoon. He had some new comics to read. He could visit Valery, and they could get something to eat. Something that didn’t come out of a can. Maybe Valery would be able to get Derick to come, too. Maybe Doug would come if Kirill invited him.

“Doug,” Kirill started. “Do you—”

Then he made the mistake of actually looking at Doug, and whatever he was going to say died on his tongue. He’d now seen Doug wearing his glasses often enough that he was starting to build up a resistance to it, but he didn’t get to see Doug putting them on quite as much.

Doug was very matter of fact about it. He unfolded the arms and slid on the glasses, adjusting the way they sat across the bridge of his nose with one finger. There was nothing particularly sensual about it, but Kirill could not cope.

He leapt to his feet. “Do you mind if I just—yeah, I’m gonna—”

Words failed him. Instead, he settled for some wild, nonsensical gesticulating towards the door before he all but ran away from his desk.

 

This wasn’t sustainable. Kirill knew that. He couldn’t leave the room and hide in the bathroom every time Doug put on his glasses.

Deana had already figured him out. She was decent enough to not immediately tell everyone she knew, though that _had_ been her first instinct, and she only made fun of Kirill for his enormous crush in private.

Kirill was pretty sure Yuri knew, too. He’d caught her giving him a sympathetic look the last few times he slunk back from the bathroom, following one of his hasty retreats. And if Yuri knew, that meant Max had to know as well.

It was only a matter of time before Doug realized why it was so hard for Kirill to look at him these days.

But, until Kirill found a better way to cope with the nearly uncontrollable urge to seize Doug by the hair and kiss him until his awful glasses fogged up, hiding in the bathroom would have to do.

It was effective, at least. Kirill just needed ten minutes of privacy to breathe and prepare himself, mentally, for the ordeal of being in the presence of the hottest version Doug. Then he could go back to the office and, for the most part, act like a normal person.

This time, he didn’t make it to ten minutes. He barely got ten seconds. He’d only just stepped inside his usual stall when the door to the bathroom swung open again, and he didn’t have time to slide the lock in place before Doug pushed open the stall door.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Doug said. It wasn’t a question, and he was still wearing his glasses.

Kirill sat down on the toilet seat, not entirely of his own volition. His knees had given out. Doug was right there, just a step away, looking down at him like he was a case that needed to be solved.

“Have I?” Kirill asked.

Doug drummed two fingers against his temple and cocked his head to the side. He was quiet, thoughtful, for a moment. Then he guessed, “It’s the glasses.”

Kirill tensed.

“You don’t like them,” Doug said.

“What? No. God, no.” Kirill heard himself speaking and willed himself to stop, but Doug’s allegation was so wildly outlandish and false that Kirill simply couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “I _do_ like them, I like them so much, I—”

Kirill finally managed to cut himself off, but Doug looked so curious, so expectant, that Kirill found himself forgoing common sense and deciding to finish his thought.

“I like them too much,” he confessed.

The corners of Doug’s lips twitched upwards. “I know.”

Immediately, Kirill’s jaw dropped. His lips formed a shocked little ‘o’ and stayed that way until Doug touched two fingers to his chin, closing his mouth for him.

“You tricked me,” Kirill whispered. “That was a trap.”

Doug hummed, not denying it. “You were taking too long to say something.”

“I was—” Kirill reeled from the revelation. Doug knew. Doug had probably known all along. He was a reasonably competent detective, after all. Which meant he knew exactly how Kirill felt about him and his glasses. “You didn’t say anything either!”

“Yeah,” Doug agreed. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

Kirill scowled, about to ask how, when Doug sank to his knees. He was very matter of fact about this, too. Kirill’s jaw dropped again. He looked down just in time for Doug to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss.

Doug’s mouth was soft and sure, and Kirill inhaled sharply when his nose bumped up against the rim of Doug’s glasses. He managed to find his bearings, somehow, when Doug’s lips moved against his. His hands flew up so fast he nearly smacked Doug in the side of the head, and his grip was desperately tight when he grabbed onto Doug’s shoulders to kiss him back.

He shivered, all over, when Doug licked into his mouth. It was hard to focus on anything other than the slide of their tongues and the faint, contented noise Doug made when Kirill snuck a hand into his hair. Kirill barely felt it when Doug slid his hands up his thighs, until Doug took hold of his hips and pulled him right to the edge of his seat.

“Do you even need glasses?” Kirill demanded, when Doug pulled back. The lenses were already starting to fog up, and it was just as hot as Kirill thought it’d be. The sight alone was almost enough to make him groan. “Were you just messing with me?”

“I _am_ a little nearsighted,” Doug said. He pulled Kirill closer by the nape of his neck, brushing his lips against Kirill’s throat. “Probably don’t need to wear them in the car, though.”

“ _Doug_. You’ve been wearing them in the car ever since you got them.”

“You like them,” Doug stated.

And, well, he wasn’t wrong. He was annoying and mean, and he’d probably known about Kirill’s crush for ages, but he wasn’t wrong. Kirill couldn’t argue, so instead he said, “Kiss me again.”

He didn’t wait for Doug to do it. He ducked down and met him halfway, kissing him again and again, deeper and harder, until Doug’s glasses were well and truly opaque. Doug grinned as he pulled back once more, drawing a frustrated huff from Kirill’s red and swollen lips.

“Can’t see much,” he said, even though his glasses were already starting to clear up.

“Good,” Kirill muttered. “Suffer.”

“I can’t see much,” Doug repeated. “So I’m going to have to ask you to take off your own pants.”

Kirill choked on absolutely nothing. It was such a lame line, and it shouldn’t have been hot, but Kirill was apparently very into Doug’s lame lines and terrible face. His cock was straining against his pants, and Doug was waiting, on his knees, between Kirill’s legs. Kirill couldn’t bring himself to feel the slightest bit self-conscious about how quickly he fumbled open the buttons and clasps of his diabolically complicated pants.

When there was just one obstacle left, Doug batted Kirill’s hands away and ducked his head to take the tab of the zipper between his teeth. He pulled down, slowly, and looked up at Kirill from above the frame of his glasses. Kirill sucked in a sharp breath and did his best not to come on the spot.

He ran one finger along the arm of Doug’s glasses. This was, by far, the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. But if Doug kept going, just like this, Kirill wasn’t going to last.

“You’re keeping them on?” he asked, breathless.

“Sure,” Doug said. He pressed a kiss to the outline of Kirill’s cock, through his underwear, before taking him out and pumping his length with one languid stroke.

Kirill _really_ wasn’t going to last.

His thighs were quivering by the time Doug ran a tongue over the head of his cock. A strangled moan worked its way out of his throat when Doug finally took him into his mouth. His hips jerked forward, or at least tried to. His ass was already balanced precariously on the edge of the toilet seat, and he would have fallen off entirely if it hadn’t been for Doug’s firm grip.

Doug ran his thumbs over Kirill’s jutting hip bones and hummed as he bobbed his head. The vibrations shot straight through to Kirill’s core. His skin felt flushed, overheated, everywhere Doug touched him. He heard himself whining, panting. Both of his hands had found their way into Doug’s hair. He was holding on too tight, nails digging in against Doug’s scalp, but he couldn’t bring himself to loosen his grip.

And he couldn’t look away. Not for a second. Doug’s gaze flickered up to him once in a while, and he sent a pleased, satisfied noise through Kirill’s cock every time he caught him staring. His glasses were wildly askew, but he didn’t seem to care.

It was a little embarrassing, how quickly Kirill felt his orgasm building. He pulled more urgently on Doug’s hair, trying to warn him with a frantic gasp of his name.

Doug splayed one hand over the small of Kirill’s back as he pulled off. He held him steady as he wrapped his other hand around Kirill’s cock, jerking him off until—after just a dozen strokes—Kirill came with a shout.

Kirill’s hands had found their way back to Doug’s shoulders. He didn’t meant to trap Doug there, but Doug didn’t make any attempt to move back, either. He just watched Kirill, like he was something fascinating, as Kirill came on his face.

When the spots cleared from Kirill’s vision, he tipped his head and stared at Doug, who still hadn’t moved. Doug seemed perfectly content to stay on his knees, his lips—red and wet and stained with Kirill’s come—curved into a fond smile. He’d risen up just enough to wrap his arms around Kirill, smoothing his hands up and down the planes of Kirill’s back.

And there was—oh, god. There were two distinct streaks of come painting the lenses of his glasses.

“This,” Kirill panted, struggling to catch his breath. “This isn’t going to make it any easier to look at you when you wear these things.”

Doug smiled a little wider. “Was I trying to make it easier?”

“You—” Kirill shoved him back, then grabbed the front of his shirt to tug him to his feet. “You’re an asshole, Doug, and I don’t think you’re nearsighted at all. Now shut up and take off _your_ own pants.”

 

“He is a little nearsighted,” Apple confirmed. He’d just gotten back from an out-of-town medical technology convention, and Kirill was having lunch in his lab so they could catch up. “But I upgraded his view jack with his prescription before I left.”

Kirill dropped his juice box.

**Author's Note:**

> kirill proceeds to yell at doug in the parking lot until deana threatens to hit them with her car the end!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/endokusai)


End file.
